#just give me a moment for pity’s sake!!!!

[takemetodragonstone]

can things stop happening? i’m still trying to process the things that happened when i was 3 what do you mean there are more things

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats (Pt. 3)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2

“With free reign of King’s Landing, Aemond will focus his attention on the occupation of bast-” Aegon’s face flushes bright red. “Harrenhal.” He corrects himself, “and the extermination of house Strong.”

“What did you call it?” Daemon arches a brow.

“Harrenhal,” Aegon repeats.

“Before that,” Daemon prods.

Aegon sighs, looking to his wife.

“Bastardhal.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“My brother’s term of endearment.” He explains, “a slip of the tongue.”

“Mmm,” Daemon hums. “Perhaps allegiance to your brother runs deeper than you let on.”

“I have left my siblings and abandoned my post to be here. I remain loyal to Rhaenyra’s claim and her line of succession. What else would you have me do?” Aegon scoffs.

“There are a number of things.”

“If you refuse to believe that Aegon is loyal to our queen, believe that he is loyal to me and I am loyal to my mother.” Y/N takes a protective step in front of her husband.

Daemon’s jaw ticks, frustrated and teetering near sanity’s edge. “You then, are responsible for his indiscretions.”

“I take full responsibility.” Y/N agrees, “he is here for me.”

“Perhaps he might further demonstrate his loyalty.”

“And how, do you suggest, I do that?” Aegon wonders.

“Deliver us your brother’s head on a platter.” Daemon sneers.

“Mother!”

“Am I wrong, Rhaenyra?” Daemon scoffs.

“That is enough!” The Queen slams her fist against the table. “Thank you, Aegon for the information you provided. We will coordinate with our army and send reinforcements to Harrenhal. We will send word to Cregan Stark-”

“By raven?”

“However I see fit, Daemon. Stay your hand.” Rhaenyra snaps. “You are all excused.”

Aegon is out the door just as swiftly.

Y/N flinches as it slams behind him.

Jacaerys remains stoic in the corner, saying nothing for a long while as his mother and step father begin bickering. “Sister,” he nods toward the hallway.

Y/N returns the gesture, following him out past the royal guards. “The nerve of him.” She is fuming as they begin strolling the grounds.

“That is Daemon.” Jacaerys breathes. “Pay him no mind.”

“It’s not as if I don’t want Aemond’s head. Luce is our brother, for the gods’ sake.”

Jace swallows, mouth set in a firm line. “He was our brother.”

Was…is he not anymore?

“In these dealings with Aemond, you must remember that killing him will not bring Luce back.”

“It would be even.”

“A son for a son was also even.” Her brother reminds her. “Your grievance with it hath brought you here.”

“I should have allowed the murder of a child?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“What is even is not always right, I expect you know that by now.”

“Indeed.”

“Ravens will take too long.” Jacaerys laments, “but mother will not let us deliver messages anymore. It is a shame that our safety comes at the expense of other’s.”

Y/N draws in a steadying breath. “Pity.” She turns away, in the direction of her chambers. Aegon is waiting for her there, sipping from a pitcher of wine. “Did they not give you a cup, my darling?”

“Hmm,” Aegon hums into the container, “of course.” He lowers the pitcher from his mouth, “but this is faster.”

The princess puts a hand to her head.

“I am not a dog that’s been kicked, do not look at me that way. As if I am weak.”

“I love you and you are hurting.” Y/N sighs, “I do not know how else to look at you.”

Aegon mulls this over for a moment. “I did not mean to call it bastardhal.”

“I know that.”

“You are not a bastard.” He presses on, “I am sorry for ever calling you one.”

“You are forgiven.” It is nothing more than a word. It cannot harm her anymore.

“If no house would claim you, then I would.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile, “thank you, Aegon.”

“You think I jest? Or does it simply mean nothing coming from me?”

“It means everything coming from you,” Y/N takes a step toward him. “Forgive me if I have made it seem-”

“No,” Aegon shakes his head, “forgive me. I am lost in this. I mustn’t take my frustration out on you.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “If you are loved by no one, know you are loved by me.“

“Without you I have nothing.” He reaches a shaky hand out, stroking her hair, reverently. “I am nothing.”

She draws back, searching his eyes. “That is not true.”

“If you ask me to slay my brother, I will do it.” Aegon breathes.

Y/N presses her lips together. She had not asked, Daemon did. But Aegon does not bend to Daemon’s will, only hers.

“Please do not ask.” He murmurs with wide, sad eyes.

Y/N cannot stand to see him cry. It tears at the depths of her soul. She wraps her arms around him, “I will not ask.”

Aegon clings to her. “I would do it.”

“I know, my love.” Y/N presses kisses to the side of his face. She knows his sadness, the burden of being least loved by everyone else. Some part of him will always seek to win her approval, her affection… her love.

He is pawing at her then, at the laces of her dress. He does not know how to comfort her, nor himself. He knows how to bring pleasure so blinding it nearly drowns out the pain.

Y/N helps him remove his clothes, wrapping him up in her arms. “I love you.”

“As I love you.” He’s stumbling backwards then, hovering over her on the bed. Easing his cock into her.

She sighs, losing herself in the gentle rocking of his hips. There is no haste to reach their peak, taking what little comfort they can from each other.

It is not until his thumbs skate over her cheeks that Y/N realizes she is crying. Even here, on their marriage bed, there is no end to suffering. Only an end to loneliness.

————————————————————————

Y/N waits until Aegon is sleeping soundly to clamber from the warmth of his arms and dawn her riding gear. Dragonstone is quiet as she makes her way down to the dragon pit. Stormborn is nestled in beside Sunfyre, her light blue scales complement the golden hue of her companion.

“Where are you off to at this hour, your grace?” One of the keepers asks.

“I’m going to take Stormborn out for a bit of fresh air. The moon is beautiful this evening, don’t you agree?” Y/N smiles, tucking a bit of loose hair behind her ear.

“Indeed, Princess.” He eyes the sword, sheathed at her back.

“This is only a precaution,” Y/N lies, “we can never be too careful in these times.”

He nods, “I will saddle her.”

“Thank you, Marcelo.” Y/N nods, tugging on her riding gloves as she waits. Tapping at her wedding band, beneath the cool fabric.

“She is ready, your grace.”

“Thank you, again.” She says, climbing up onto Stormborn’s saddle.

“It is my great honor.” The man smiles, watching in wonder as the princess sets off across the sea.

Only a few torches are lit at the entrance of Harrenhal.

Y/N lands near the stone walkway, striding up to the tall hooded figure and ripping back his cloak.

Aemond turns to his assailant. “Y/N?”

“Take out your sword.” She demands.

“Lucerys death was a tragic mistake, a lapse in judgment I do not care to repeat.”

“I will not kill you with your back to me, I am no coward. You will face me, take out your sword.”

“For the sake of the gods, Y/N,” Aemond growls. “Do you aim so desperately to break my brother’s heart?”

“I will not allow the slaughter of innocent people. This ends here.”

“A brother for a brother it will be then, not a son for a son.” Aemond reluctantly withdraws his weapon.

Y/N charges him, in a blind rage, their blades meet, clanking together.

“You make a better sparring partner than most.” He draws his sword away, narrowly dodging her next attack.

“This is not a children’s game, I want your head!”

Aemond purrs, “you must earn it then.”

She sees red, swinging at him again, until his blade slices across her side and she has cut deep into the flesh of his leg. Bringing the Prince to his knees, with her sword at his neck.

“Do it,” Aemond insists, “you will not get another chance.” He stares up at her blade, dripping with his blood. The fear etched into her eyes, tresses of dark hair clinging to her sweat damp skin.

In this light, each of them resemble their brother.

The end Y/N desires is so near she can taste it, rising like bile in her throat. She chokes on it. “No.” She drops her blade from his neck, covering her aching side instead. “No.”

Aemond hangs his head. “I am sorry for that business with Luce. I lost my temper that day.”

“And I lost my…” No, she cannot say it, the pain is too great.

“Let me see your wound.” Aemond insists.

In her shock, Y/N obeys.

He tears across the bottom of his cloak, knotting the material firmly around her torso. Unbothered by her hissing protest. “This will hold until you reach Dragonstone. Go to Aegon, he will tend you.”

“You must leave this place.”

“You have my word.”

“And you must leave King’s Landing.”

Aemond smirks, “where would I go?”

“Anywhere.” Y/N suggests, “take Helaena and your children. We both know, she is too kind to bear the weight of the crown and our blood. Take her away so she might be happy…and free.”

“Do you not wish to be free from the weight of the crown?”

Y/N hesitates for a long moment. “I am the crown. I am my mother’s heir, her only daughter. I cannot abandon her, she has lost too much.”

Aemond swallows, “very well. Helaena will write you. You and my brother might visit, once we’re settled.”

“Perhaps we will.” She will never forgive him for Lucerys. They will never be as they were before Storm’s End. “You are my husband’s brother and husband of my dearest friend.”

“I am also your brother’s murderer. A title that trumps all, despite your best intentions. You are good, and kind, but human all the same.”

————————————————————————

“Aegon.”

“Hmm?” He reaches for his wife, blindly, stroking a hand over her dark waves. “What have you done to your hair, darling girl?” He grumbles, “it is awfully coarse.”

Jace bats Aegon’s hands away. “My sister is gone, you buffoon. Get your clothes on.”

“Jacaerys?” Aegon springs up, covering himself with the top sheet. “What are you doing?”

“Y/N is missing. The dragon handlers informed me that she left on Stormborn nearly two hours ago. Sunfyre has been yowling ever since.”

“Alert your mother,” Aegon demands, “raise the guard. Who on earth let the heir to the throne take a dragon from the pit in the middle of the night?”

“She is a princess, not a prisoner.” Jace reminds him, “I have a hunch as to where she went.”

“Harrenhal.” Aegon begins tugging on his clothes. The little brat bedded him and snuck off; again. “She will be a prisoner upon her return. I tire of these games.”

“You mustn’t be so harsh, my sister would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“Yet she will not stay with me.” Aegon steps into his boots. “Surely she loves me so dearly that she flees at every opportunity.”

“Do not see it that way.” Jace sighs.

“I have no other way to see it.” Their chamber door swings open, revealing the woman in question.

“Aegon,” Y/N chokes. The blinding rush of battle is gone, leaving only her pain.

“Leave us,” Aegon waves a dismissive hand at his nephew.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys looks to his sister instead.

“I am well, brother.”

“You are bleeding.”

Y/N glances down at her wound, “perhaps you might go quietly to the maester and request milk of the poppy?”

“The maester should tend you,” he argues.

“Aegon will tend me, tis but a scrape.” Y/N insists.

Her brother squares his shoulders. “Very well, I will be back.”

“Thank you, brother.” Y/N forces a smile as Jace exits the door.

“What happened?” Aegon demands, squinting into the dim light as his wife stands before him, in her riding gear.

“I could not do it.” Y/N curses her own weakness. “I went to Aemond, I stopped him from taking Harrenhal and I let him go.”

Aegon shifts her garments aside to reveal the damage. A long bleeding gash, beneath her ribs. “Aemond did this to you?” He sits her down on the foot stool, pacing in the small space before it.

“We dueled,” Y/N admits. “I made my mark on him as well.”

“Gods be good.” Aegon breathes.

“If Daemon catches word of this-”

“You are injured. That is where my interests lie, not in the folly of men.” Aegon seethes.

“He has already condoned the murder of children. Helaena’s children, of all people. What will he do if he hears of this?”

Aegon passes a hand over his face. “Surely we cannot leave the wound open like that, it will fester.”

“I know,” Y/N nods. “We must seal it up, with a heated blade. We can do it here, no one need know.” She reaches for his cup on the dresser, chugging the foul liquid down for some relief.

“You’re asking me to…” his eyes dart to his dagger, abandoned near his boots. “No.”

“Aegon.”

“I can’t.”

“It will be quick,” she reasons. “It will scar, but it is on my side, you will not look upon it often.”

“That is what you’re concerned with,” Aegon snaps, “of all things, you think I care about the scar it will leave? That I might frown upon an imperfection?”

“I-”

“You are maddening.”

“I am sorry. I do not wish to fight.”

“It is unavoidable from what I’ve heard. Marriage causes strife and disagreements.”

“Not ours,” Y/N insists, “you are the only person who understands me.”

“I do not understand why you would put yourself in danger.”

“For you.” Y/N tells him. “So you would not have to choose between your wife and your brother.”

“I would choose you, imbecile.”

Y/N bares her teeth. “I couldn’t let you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine, Aegon! I protect what is mine.”

In the way of the dragon. And that, Aegon understands very well.

“Here it is,” Jace returns with milk of the poppy.

“Thank you,” Aegon takes the gauntlet, bringing it to his wife’s lips. “Drink all of it.” He demands.

“Is there anything more I can do?” The other man asks.

“Rest the blade of my dagger over the fire until it glows red, then bring it to me.”

Jace nods.

“First, might you find something for her to bite down on. Leather works best.” Aegon purses his lips, “bring me my belt.” One of them is still etched with her teeth markings from Laenor’s birth. He’s delivered two of their children, surely he can do this.

Jacaerys rushes to the armchair beside the bed, tugging Aegon’s belt free and placing it on the foot stool beside his sister.

Y/N curls her fingers around the harsh material. Her vision has doubled, swaying from side to side.

“Are you going to faint?” Aegon catches her face between his hands.

“I feel fine,” Y/N slurs.

Aegon taps her chin. “That is good, my dearest love. I am going to remove your shirt.” He eases the material over her head, leaving only the bindings to cover her breasts.

“The blade is ready,” Jacaerys calls, from the fire place.

“Open.” Aegon tugs at her bottom lip with his thumb until her jaw goes slack, taking the leather belt from her clenched fist and placing the strap between her teeth. “Bite.”

Y/N clamps her teeth around it.

“Good girl.”

Jacaerys approaches, handling the instrument with care.

“You will hold me around the waist, you are not to let go until I say.” Aegon instructs, waiting until she is wrapped around him in an awkward sort of hug. “There you go.” He pats her head before taking the dagger from her brother. He offers no additional warning before lying the blade flat across the expanse of her wound. The cut is a clean one, without jagged edges.

Y/N lets out a muffled cry.

“Shh,” he hushes her, holding the heat to her skin for just a moment more before tossing the dagger away. Gingerly withdrawing the belt from her teeth. Resting his forehead against hers as whimpers settle to deep breathing. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods.

“If you dare leave me again, Gods help me, I will shackle you to my side.”

Y/N strokes a hand over the side of his face. “Yes, Aegon.”

“I do not jest.”

Part 4

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight @ninastyless @aleemendoza2425-blog @livingdead-reilly @whenmypartysover @darlingisntit @nayaniasworld @uniquecroissant @spacexdrago

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

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RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part VI)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 6.7 K

Warnings: More angst, Aegon being the villain of all villains, lots of grief and sadness, but also fluff because they love each other so much

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ... Part 7

~~

Things were different after that night. She was different. With each passing day Aemond saw less and less of the woman he knew and loved with every inch of his being. She was no longer that bright-eyed and sparkling girl he had known since his childhood.

Her lips no longer curled with mischief, her laughter no longer rang out in their chambers. Her hand no longer sought him out, she had no kisses to give him just for the sake of it. 

The space between them in their bed felt like a chasm that was too great for him to cross to get to her.

She spent her days curled up in bed, hugging the blankets tightly to her, refusing anyone who attempted to pry them away from her. The maids tip-toed around her, the gazes of pity stirring Aemond’s anger. 

She barely spoke a word, only giving weak-sounding excuses to refuse her meals, to refuse to get up and face the day. 

He didn’t blame her. If he could, he would be in that bed beside her all hours of the day, but his duties as a Prince didn’t stop because his heart had shattered. The thought of his lost child didn’t leave his mind as he sat in on meetings of war, it was all he thought of as he numbly walked the halls like a ghost. 

The empty chair next to him at every dinner spoke volumes and he didn’t know how many more nights he could endure the pitying looks from his mother. 

The guilt was drowning him. 

He knew the attack was revenge for what he had done to Lucerys Velaryon. He knew that man he had driven his sword into was following the orders of Rhaenyra and Daemon. He knew his wife had almost been murdered for his mistake.

He knew his child was dead because of him. 

He couldn’t stomach the thought. He felt untethered to himself, as if he were walking around without a soul. He couldn’t handle the grief, he couldn’t fathom the reality that played out around him. 

So he settled for anger. It was what he knew, it was familiar. 

The moment he would leave his wife’s side, the moment he stepped out of their chambers, the melancholy and the heartbreak would recede within him, his face hardening, his entire demeanor changing in an instant, portraying that of a cold, unflinching soldier rather than the mourning husband and lost father. 

The thought of his half sister and uncle made him see red, the dragon blood within him sizzling under his skin, igniting a fury so volatile it shadowed any ire he had felt for his bastard nephews. 

He sat in his mother’s chambers, staring blankly out the window, ignoring the politicking his mother and grandsire attempted to bring forth to Aegon who sat looking bored. Time passed unknowingly, his mind a million miles away - or just mere hallways away where his wife lay, a picture of a broken mother. 

“Aemond?”

He turned his attention to his mother who was eyeing him questioningly. He hummed absentmindedly and she sighed. 

“How is she?”

He clenched his jaw, his eyes falling to his feet, unable to speak a word of his wife’s condition. He would surely break down if he did and he refused to let his prick of a brother witness such a moment of weakness. 

Alicent sighed, failing yet again to engage her son in any semblance of conversation.

“Her maid told me she has refused to eat… again.” 

Aemond felt himself twitch, his anger sparking at the mention of his wife and the monumental grief she was lost in, that he had no way to help her through. 

He felt a sharp pain in his chest, the same pain he had been feeling for the past few days. He wondered each time if it were another piece of his heart cracking, shriveling away to nothing. He wondered when it would stop, when there would finally be nothing left of it. 

He pictured the scene he had walked into that night, the sight of that man over his wife, her below him, bloody and crying, so close to being taken from the world, taken from him.

It was a sight that had haunted his every waking thought since. 

It was a sight that had broken him beyond repair. 

It was a sight that left him bloodthirsty. 

Unable to stand the grief any longer, he succumbed to his burning anger, the thought of his uncle and half-sister leaving him to feel as though there was only one single thing he could do to release him from the fury that was all-consuming, sure enough to devour him at any moment.

He abruptly stood, causing his family to flinch and send curious stares his way. 

“Aemond?”

“I cannot sit here and let the attempt on my wife’s life and the loss of my child go unpunished any longer.”

He stomped towards the door, prompting his mother and grandsire to stand and quickly follow behind him, worry painting their features. Helaena shifted uncomfortably where she sat, the grief that surrounded her brother and dear friend shrouding her kind heart, clouding her usually sunny disposition. Even Aegon looked worried, his eyes flitting between his brother and his Hand with apprehension.

“It will not go unpunished, but we need a plan. We cannot blindly go forward with violence.” Otto scolded him impatiently.

Aemond smirked, the sight of a man who was beginning to lose it all.

“My uncle underestimates me. He will soon know better than to threaten what’s mine.” 

“Aemond, please.” Alicent pleaded desperately. “I know you’re hurting, but you cannot let your grief rule you, we need-”

“I need to end this. I started this and I paid for it with the life of my child.” Aemond seethed, his lone eye wide and becoming glassy, the lump in his throat growing as he thought of his babe he would never hold. 

Helaena felt her own eyes begin to well with tears as she watched her broken brother attempt to salvage what little control he felt he had. 

“Daemon will die for this and I won’t wait any longer for you to discuss allies and soldiers, to wait long enough to let him plan another attack that will take my wife from me. I will end it today. He doesn’t deserve to see another sunrise.”

He moved to the door once more, but his mother frantically latched onto his arm, pulling him back, her own tears falling down her cheeks.

“Please, think this through.”

“I have!” Aemond screamed, his heart racing, his hands trembling, his grief and anger overtaking every rational thought in his mind. 

His vision blurred and he abruptly turned away from his family, refusing to let them see him crumble. 

The room was silent, heavy with tension. 

“Vhagar is mighty, but she cannot take on Caraxes, Syrax, Meleys, even Vermax, alone and you will get yourself killed for nothing.” Otto added, causing Aemond to flinch as if he’d been struck.

It wasn’t for nothing. It was for his wife, for the child they lost, the son they would never get to hold.

“Aemond.” Helaena’s tearful voice spoke up. “She needs you.”

The words, so simple yet gut wrenching, were enough to snuff out his fury. The thought of his wife, the woman who was grieving just as he was and what would happen to her if he charged into battle. The thought of her losing someone else, knowing he would break her already fragile heart into a state of disrepair had his head spinning, the desire to rip his uncle limb from limb receding into the depths of his mind.

The only thing that mattered was her. 

He refused to cause her any more harm. 

He left the room without another word, keeping his head down as he quickly made his way to their chambers. 

His frayed nerves needed only one antidote, her. 

Stepping into their chambers, his heart jumped within his chest as he noticed the bed was empty. He panicked momentarily before he heard the soft voices of her maids. He stepped forward slowly, peeking his head into the next room where her maids surrounded her, their touches gentle as they helped her bathe. 

Aemond felt the ache return, as if a fist were clenched tightly around his heart, squeezing until it ceased to beat. 

Her eyes were dull, her face passive. His throat grew tight as he watched the maids lift her arm, the limp limb like a ragdoll, as if she were merely a corpse, a body functioning without its beautiful mind. 

It shattered him beyond repair to see her in this state. 

You did this, the tormenting voice in his head reminded him yet again. 

The guilt could’ve knocked him off his feet. 

Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the torturous sight before him and stormed out of the room, his quick, angered pace taking him out of the Red Keep. 

His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving with every step he took. 

Vhagar raised her head lazily as her rider approached. Her demeanor changed in an instant, shaking herself from her tiredness, her bonded’s fury and despair so loud, it was radiating off him in waves. She growled lowly, snarling as he approached.

Aemond had no words of comfort, nothing to say to calm his dragon. She felt what he felt, she was as thirsty for destruction as he was. 

He commanded Vhagar to fly, where he didn’t know. 

The frigid wind was like knives against his skin, the rope in his hands course and rough. He hadn’t bothered to wear his gloves or any of his proper attire for riding. He had been desperate to get out of that room, unable to face his wife for a second longer or his heart would’ve given out there and then. 

He just needed to get away from it all. Everywhere he looked there were reminders of what had happened that night, what he caused. 

To see his wife in such a state and to know it was because of him left him wondering how much longer he could live with it. He was certain it wouldn’t be too much longer, he almost welcomed it for he couldn’t live like this any more. 

Aemond rode far and fast, his legs aching, his back becoming sore, but it didn’t matter to him, it barely even registered. 

Noticing a small island on the horizon, Aemond pulled the reins, commanding Vhagar to descend. 

His heart raced, the lump in his throat close to choking him. 

“Vhagar…” He called out, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Dracarys!” 

His mighty dragon roared streams of fire, over and over as her rider commanded, his yelled commands becoming inaudible over the currents of fire she spewed. Aemond watched the trees burn, their flames growing into raging infernos. He commanded Vhagar to land and he numbly stumbled off her saddle, his grace gone in his state of despair. 

He stepped forward, his eye glowing orange with the flames before him. He felt the heat radiating from the blaze and took another step towards it. Behind him, Vhagar roared, as if in warning, as if she could sense the danger, sense the recklessness in her rider. 

A choked breath escaped his lips, his mind flashing with images of that dreaded night, his wife screaming in agony, her thighs dripping red with the loss of their child. He thought of the little boy he pictured all those times he would place his hand over the small bump that grew, imagining the child with eyes like his mother’s, his smile wide and deliriously happy like his mother’s. The memories were suffocating. 

You did this.

The words circled in his head until he broke. 

His eyes burned with tears and he gasped helplessly as they fell in a torrent down his cheeks. His legs felt weak under him and he stumbled, falling to his knees in the coarse grass below him. 

He cried and screamed until his throat hurt. He unleashed his fury and heartbreak in a flood of sobs he couldn’t control.

The flames before him crawled towards him, the heat before him that burned uncomfortably hot an unlikely comfort. He remained still as the fire raged closer and closer. 

Behind him, Vhagar roared, a sound so heartbreaking it mirrored her rider’s own all consuming anguish. 

Minutes, that felt like hours, passed until he had no tears left, his throat dry and aching, leaving him to stare blankly forward, the flames before him like a hypnotizing mirage, beckoning him forward, enticing him to end the pain once and for all. 

It wasn’t until the trees before him began to creak and wither, soon collapsing under the assault, wicked waves of embers and ash spraying towards him, the island he unleashed his fury on succumbing to his destruction, that he shook himself from his grief induced daze.

With a heavy breath, his eye heavy and hurting, he finally got to his feet slowly, making no haste to climb back atop Vhagar who seemed to rumble in discontent below him, as if to chastise him for his recklessness. 

As he flew back to King’s Landing, he felt no lighter, no great catharsis that lifted the weight on his chest. His heart still felt as though it would break with each breath.  

He just hoped he could survive another agonizing day.

~~

The days dragged on and he was left to face his wife’s absence once again, his head down as he ate, desperate to get the meal over with as quickly as he could and get back to their chambers to be with her. 

At the head of the table, Otto cleared his throat and Aemond wondered how such a miniscule sound could still hold authority. He looked up with barely contained disdain and he met the surly eyes of his grandsire. 

“I think it is time we discuss our next steps.” 

“Father.” Alicent admonished wearily. “Now is not the time.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, it was all too obvious they had been conspiring without him. 

“Clearly you have something to say, so say it.” Aemond barked out, his tone making Helaena flinch from where she sat across the table. 

The look of apprehension his mother sent to his grandsire didn’t go unnoticed, heightening his already tempestuous nerves. 

“It is apparent your wife’s grief is not permitting her to uphold her duties-”

Aemond didn’t need to hear anymore. He stood from his chair, letting it clatter to the floor from the force of his movements and didn’t spare a look back at his family as he made his way to the door, his body rigid with fury. 

Ignoring the cries of his mother to come back and his grandsire’s warning to not turn his back on them, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

He knew his granside was not overly fond of his union, that he would rather he ally himself with that dastardly Baratheon girl or a plain girl from the Riverlands. He knew it was all to help Aegon’s cause and he couldn’t care less. 

No one dared to make eye contact with the feared Prince as he stomped down the halls with an air of fury. He pictured his wife, the playful shove and sarcastic admonishment she would give him for his temper as the maids scurried out of his path in terror. 

The thought of her, of the person she no longer was, of what was ripped away from them so viciously only made his blood boil hotter. 

His entire body was locked with tension as he stormed into their chambers. He leaned against the closed door, his eye falling closed as he breathed deeply in an effort to regain any ounce of calmness he could reach. 

“Hi.”

Her soft voice startled him, his eyes springing open, searching frantically among the room until he landed on her curled up form on the couch by the hearth. 

His lips parted in surprise, hope swelling within him at the sight of her out of that bed, washing away every bit of his anger in an instant.  

“Hi.” He breathed out, approaching slowly, gauging her reaction as he took a seat next to her, making sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them, as if they were a pair of innocent children, having to put on airs for the court. 

“I assume dinner did not go well.”

Aemond let out a low sound, too exhausted and mentally drained to laugh as he slumped, no longer the picture of the perfectly put together Targaryen Prince. He ran a hand over his tired face. 

“You are familiar with my family. I’m surprised you had any positive expectations.” 

Her lips quirked upwards slightly, more of a barely perceptible twitch of her lips, in a pathetic attempt to convey some semblance of amusement. She couldn’t muster much more in her state. 

Aemond watched her intently, noticing the signs of exhaustion, the way she curled up into herself, her eyes dull and marked with dark circles. It hurt him deeply to see her in this state, but he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at the mere fact that she was no longer hiding beneath her sheets.  

“You.. you’re out of bed.” He remarked quietly. 

She looked over at him, slightly surprised by his words. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back deeper into the couch she lay on, as if she could make herself smaller. 

“It felt like…” She started slowly, trying to find the words to describe the grief that was overtaking her. “Like a fog had finally lifted, like I could finally control my own body again.”

Aemond nodded slowly, the ache within him only growing more prominent at her words. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the bandage she still wore. He winced slightly at the sight of it, the reminder of that night, of how he had almost lost her and the pain she had been in stirring his devastation yet again. 

“Did you eat?” 

She clammed up at his question, her eyes quickly casting down to the floor, refusing to look his way.

“I’m not hungry.” She responded monotonously, the response becoming all too familiar to him. 

Aemond sighed, pushing past his disappointment, choosing to focus on the relief he felt that she had even gotten out of bed. He’d take whatever progress came, no matter how slow. 

The pair of them were left in silence, a tense air around them that had never existed between them before. 

She shifted in her spot, hating what they had come to, hating her mind for forcing her to relive her loss over and over, keeping her in this black hole of misery she couldn’t claw her way out of. 

As the minutes passed in a dreadful silence, she finally reached her breaking point, her disdain for the state of their marriage for once overtaking her grief.

“Can you read to me… like you used to?” She asked, her voice sounding slightly raspy from disuse. 

Aemond looked shocked by her question, but the light that reached his eye was unmistakable, twisting her stomach for the first time in weeks in ways that didn’t signal trauma. The fluttering of nervous butterflies at the sight of him made her feel like she was a child again.

He nodded eagerly and reached for the book that lay on the table beside him, the book he’d been leafing through at night when he couldn’t find sleep, when the guilt became overwhelming that he couldn’t bring himself to lay next to her. 

He began to read, stealing occasional looks to her, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as their eyes met each time. 

With each passing second, the tension between them slowly abated, leaving the tranquil ease they were used to. 

Both of them couldn’t help but think back to how their friendship started, of their days together in the library, the hours she spent listening to Aemond read, the beginning of everything. 

She smiled lightly, focusing on the beautiful sound of her husband’s voice. She let her body relax, unclenching each limb that was wrought with stiffness. She shifted, stretching her legs out on the couch, Aemond reflexively moving his book to bring her feet to rest in his lap, laying his other hand over her legs as he had done a thousand times before, reminiscent of late nights reading by the fire after hours of lovemaking. 

She smiled and let her head fall back on the pillow behind her, closing her eyes in contentment, letting Aemond’s voice relax her into a state of calm she didn’t think she’d ever feel again.

Slowly, the weight on their shoulders lifted, piece by piece, replacing their soul-crushing hurt with a relative ease, the despair and grief dissipating. It was still there, they both knew they wouldn’t soon forget the thought of their child, but it didn’t feel as strangling as before. 

It took time, but she was able to spend more days out of bed, beginning to eat little bites of the food Aemond had brought her, her heart feeling lighter at the sight of his relieved smile with every bite she took. 

She would have her moments, when the grief became all consuming once again and she would hate the world for what it took from her, but he would be there every time to embrace her tightly and wipe her tears, to tuck her into their bed and hold her in his arms until she calmed. 

“I think of him every second of the day.” She whispered into the darkness, the tightening of Aemond’s arms around her the only indication that he had heard her words. 

They didn’t speak much about their child, but it was clear to both of them the loss was never far from their minds. Aemond held her differently, more gently, as if he feared she would crack like porcelain if his touch was anything more than feather-light. 

“I do too.” He admitted quietly, his voice strained from the emotions that threatened to break him at the thought of their child. His hand smoothed down the front of her nightgown, resting on her stomach that no longer grew with the life of their babe. 

A shuddering breath escaped her, the noise prompting Aemond to pull her in closer to him, his lips pressing to her cheek in a gentle show of affection, one she needed desperately. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered tearfully. 

Aemond turned her over so she was facing him, his hand resting on her cheek, his thumb discreetly wiping the tears that had snuck out of the corner of her eye.

“You do not ever need to apologize to me.” He assured her softly, his nose brushing against hers as he regarded her carefully, the sight of her sadness stirring his determination to remind her of what she meant to him, how deeply his love for her ran.

“This is my fault.”

Aemond’s whispered words crashed over her like a wave. Her eyes met his, the sadness reflected in his own mirroring hers, revealing how much they were both struggling, adrift in the sea of grief without a paddle.

“You didn’t do this.” She told him, her voice weak with emotion. “You love our son. I would never doubt that.” 

His face twisted, taking a monumental effort not to crumble into tears. She could tell him a million times, but he wouldn’t believe it. He knew what he was, he knew what he did, and nothing would change it.

All he could do was try to live with it. 

He tightened his grip on her, moving in closer so there was no inch of his body that wasn’t pressed against hers. He needed her comfort, her closeness, to remind himself there was something worth living for. 

He leaned in, kissing her more softly than he could ever recall, their first proper kiss in weeks. 

“You mean more to me than anything in this world.” He kissed her again, just as gentle as before. “I would be nothing without you.” 

His whispered words made her eyes sting again, though this time for a much different reason. She felt as thought the deep cracks in her heart were beginning to heal, slowly coming back together to be whole again, to love again. 

Despite the grief they still felt so strongly, they came back to each other, finding solace in their shared tears and memories of what they had envisioned for their future. 

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were curled up on the couch together one afternoon when a knock sounded at their door. She tensed immediately, causing Aemond to tighten his hold on her as he called for the person to enter. 

A guard entered their room and bowed respectfully. 

“My Prince, Princess. King Aegon has sent for both of you to meet him in the council chambers.” 

Aemond tensed, his gaze narrowing as he sat up straighter. 

“Both of us?”

“That is what the King has ordered.”

They shared looks of uncertainty, her fear growing greater than his at the prospect of facing his family for the first time since the incident. She’d seen Helaena of course, her sweet friend had been by her side, brightening her day for the past week once she’d been accepting of visitors again. 

But she had yet to see Alicent and the thought of coming face to face with Otto and Aegon had her ready to jump back into her bed, pull the sheets over her head and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. 

But she had a duty to perform. She couldn’t very well refuse the King, especially not when he was a drunken beast with the temperament of a spoiled toddler. 

She smoothed her hair out in an attempt to look more presentable and took Aemond’s arm, the two of them walking slowly, their bodies tense, pits of dread in their stomachs, as if they were headed to the executioner’s block. 

They arrived at the council chambers much too quickly. She kept her head down as they entered, but the sound of the Dowager Queen’s voice quickly had her raising her gaze to attention.

“Why is she here?”

She first met her good mother’s look of contempt before shifting to land on Aegon’s lecherous smile and her stomach twisted. 

“I invited her here, mother. This concerns her too.”

Aemond looked between his mother and brother incredulously, a sinking feeling growing within him, suddenly dreading having ever left their chambers. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

“Take a seat, we have much to discuss.” Aegon said, all too cheerfully. Across the table, the Hand sighed heavily, sending a snide look to his grandson for his lack of decorum.

“There are still arrangements to be made for House Tully.” Otto began vaguely, his eyes shifting from Aemond to his wife at his side, mentally preparing himself for the fight that was soon to break out. 

“These arrangements concern me?” Aemond asked, his tone already one of hostility. 

Alicent cleared her throat and sat up straighter in her seat, her gaze focused solely on her hands, refusing to meet the gaze of her son.

“With Daeron’s marriage agreement securing Storm’s End as our ally, that leaves House Tully to be discussed.”

Aemond’s brows furrowed, his heart picking up its pace, his mother’s refusal to look him in the eye setting his nerves alight. 

Aegon rolled his eyes at the delicate nature of the meeting that was taking far too long for his liking. 

“You will be betrothed to a Tully daughter, securing their alliance to our side.” Aegon blurted out quickly, ignoring the looks of indignation from his mother and gransire. 

Aemond’s face darkened, a sarcastic sounding laugh escaping him, the sound making the hairs on the back of Alicent’s neck stand at attention, for it was a sound far colder than she had ever heard from her son.

“I know you’ve been lost in your cups for years, brother, but surely you remember that I married many moons ago.” 

The bitter tone to his voice put everyone on edge. 

“Yes, but your wife has been unable to give you a son, a valid enough reason for an annulment, I’d say.” 

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, Aegon’s words or the ease with which he had said them, as if it was a decision easily made. Aemond grit his teeth, his deadly glare locked steadily on his brother, a thousand and one threats to his life on the tip of his tongue. 

To have their loss thrown into their faces so callously had him seeing red.

But it was the soft hand that brushed over his, desperately seeking comfort, that held him back. He turned to his wife, the brimming tears of defeat in her eyes and the despair in her expression made him want to scream.

She couldn’t possibly think he was going to let this happen.

He turned to Otto, his gaze flaring with anger. 

“This is ridiculous, he cannot do this.”

“It is a valid reason.” 

Aemond stormed to his feet, the abrupt action causing the guards at the door to put their hands on their swords, threatening him before he could make a move to end the lives of anyone who dared to threaten his marriage. 

He seethed, sending a deadly glare to the guards before turning his attention to his mother who sat silently, picking at her nails anxiously.

“Mother?” He asked, fury coursing through him again when she refused to meet his eye. 

“You would not be forced from her. Many men take mistresses.” 

A choked breath escaped him, his gaze laced with betrayal, his mother’s words like a slap across the face. 

“Exactly!” Aegon agreed, all too happy with the turn of events. “Your marriage was already a sham. He was bedding her long before they were betrothed.” 

Aemond’s lone eye glared daggers at his brother. He could feel the burning gazes of shame from his mother and grandsire and he couldn’t find it in himself to look their way.

“Not to worry, brother, I could easily keep your whore here with us. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, maybe I’ll follow in his footsteps and take your sweet wife as my own.”

The smile he sent her made her stomach turn. She would die before she let Aegon touch her.

“I don’t mind sharing her.” Aegon smirked, the sight nausea inducing.

His wife’s hand on his arm was the only thing to stop Aemond from lunging forward to throttle his brother. He was trembling with rage, he had never felt this before, like every inch of him was unraveling, like the bare bones of him were alight with fire. 

He turned back to his mother, a sense of satisfaction coursing through him when he saw her flinch at the intensity of the fury in his gaze. 

“You cannot be serious.” He said, his voice dangerously quiet. “You cannot let him do this.”

“He is our King, I do not ‘let’ him do anything.” Alicent responded harshly. “You rushed into this marriage without considering our political position. We are at war and we need to do what we can to secure our allies. You have a duty to perform, Aemond.”

He couldn’t bear to hear another word and grabbed his wife's hand, hauling her up from her chair and storming out of the room, practically dragging her behind him as she struggled to keep up with his quick pace. 

Alicent sighed heavily as the door slammed behind them, burying her face in her hands. 

“Why would you summon her?”

“She deserved to hear what I have planned for her future.”

“You cannot truly be taking her to wife.” 

Aegon shrugged. “She’s pretty enough, I don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

Alicent’s disgust was clear in the sneer she sent her son. 

“Aemond will never agree to this.”

Otto leaned back in his chair, his mind returning to his first plan. 

“Perhaps it’s time we consider more… drastic options.” 

“What are you suggesting?” Alicent asked warily.

“Aemond will not budge so we must remove the obstacle in our way.”

The Dowager Queen felt a heavy weight settle on her chest that made it hard to breathe. Her son would never forgive her. 

“Surely there is another way.”

“We would not be in this predicament if you had done as I told you and stood your ground against this senseless marriage.” Otto sneered at his daughter. “Her death could have been avoided but it is too late now. We have no options left.”

Alicent kept her head bowed, silently praying to the Gods for forgiveness and begging every higher power that Aemond would never find out her part to play in what would destroy him. 

Across the Keep, Aemond slammed the door to the chambers shut, breathing heavily as he leaned against the grand door for a few moments.

“Aemond?”

The sound of her voice, her sweet voice that always brought him comfort, was now only a reminder of the turmoil his family had put him in. 

He growled and slammed his fist against the door, over and over again until his knuckles bled.

“Stop!” She screamed, gripping onto his arm, wrenching him away from the door. “Have you gone mad?!” 

He was breathing heavily, fury thrumming through his veins, his entire body shaking as his mind went over his brother’s words over again until he saw nothing but red. 

“Fucking prick.” He seethed. “He wouldn’t even be on that throne if it weren’t for me. He’d be across the narrow sea, probably dead in some whore’s bed.” 

She stayed quiet, letting him rant, expelling his anger so he wouldn’t storm back into the council chambers and separate his brother’s head from his shoulders.

“I have done everything for them. I’ve been the dutiful Prince they wanted me to be and what do I get in return? They want to dismantle my entire life, they want to rip me away from the only good thing I have and for what? For a damned throne he didn’t even want!” 

His chest heaved, the image of him reminding her of Vhagar, a wild dragon ready to spit fire. 

“I’ll kill him.”

“Aemond, stop.” She finally stepped in, pulling at his arm, stopping him from moving towards the door. “You’re not going to kill your own brother.”

“I won’t let him touch you. He’ll be dead before he can even look at you.” He spoke frantically, his wild eye now staring at her deeply, as if he needed her to hear his promise, as if she didn’t already believe it.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, the weight on her chest so heavy it was a wonder she could even breathe.

“I’ll talk to my mother. I won’t let this happen.”

Her brows furrowed. He had heard his mother, just as she had, she was in agreement with this heinous idea. 

“Aemond…” She trailed off, her mind a mess of thoughts, though there was one thing she desperately longed for. “I need to go home.”

He paused, his anxious pacing coming to a sudden stop as he looked at her, ready for her to smile, or to assure him he had heard her wrong. Surely she wasn’t thinking about splitting up, not while the war raged, not when his family was trying to sink their claws into them.

“What?”

“I need to go back to Ixtal.”

“You want to leave? You… you’re leaving me?” Aemond choked out slowly, the tightening of his chest leaving him breathless.

“I don’t want to leave you, that’s the last thing I want, but I cannot stay here.” She spoke tearfully. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard from my parents. I know our letters are being intercepted, they would never let this much time go by without checking in on me. I don’t think they even know I lost the baby, I-I have to see them.”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. All Aemond could comprehend was that she wanted to leave. The only thing he could grasp in his already tumultuous state was that he was losing her. He felt like his entire world was shattering in front of him.

“You can’t do this to me.” He choked out. 

Her eyes softened, her heart aching to hear him sound so weak.

“Aemond, I-”

“You aren’t leaving.” He spoke lowly, his voice betraying how scared he truly felt. 

She stepped towards him, reaching out to him but he quickly flinched back, his hard gaze landing on her, making her frown deeply, her stomach dropping. He had never once looked at her like that, as if she were the one betraying him.

“Aemond, I’m not safe here.” She told him, her voice weak, portraying just how exhausted she was. “Your family seeks to tear us apart-”

“And you’re making it much easier for them!” Aemond yelled. “You are not leaving and that’s final.”

She scoffed, he had never once spoken to her like this, he had never even raised his voice to her and it had her frustration rising, taking over any ounce of fear that had been plaguing her just seconds ago. 

“So you’re going to keep me prisoner? Lock me in our chambers until I comply? Or until I’m forced to watch you marry and bed another woman?”

Aemond’s eye blazed with fury at the mention of his family’s heinous plan. A plan he had no intention of ever complying with.

He grit his teeth, his mind a mess of thoughts that only seemed to infuriate him and spiral him into a pit of fire and gnashing teeth. 

He turned on his heel and pulled the door open with such a force, it was a miracle it stayed on its hinges.

“Where are you going?” She called out, but received no answer. The slamming of the door echoing in the room that felt more empty than ever before. 

Her lip quivered, her emotions coming to a head, their bleak looking future leaving the desire to scream out until she ran out of breath. She didn’t know the lengths his family would go to supplant her. 

She only knew it brought her fear to imagine what their ire would mean for her.

She was left to stew in her devastating thoughts for hours, Aemond’s absence from her side a glaring reminder of how truly alone she felt. Since her father had left, since this war had started, she scarcely recognized the place she had grown, the place she had fallen in love, the place that had been filled with so much laughter and delight. 

It seemed like it had all been a dream, a fantasy she had created for herself. 

She barely recognized her own husband anymore. 

As night crept on the Keep, as she refused her dinner once again, she crawled into her bed, pulling the sheets high around her, the racing of her heart not having calmed since the meeting, since she began to fear her marriage being forced from her. 

The thought was too much to fathom. She couldn’t stay there and watch as Aemond married someone else. She couldn’t watch as the woman’s stomach swelled with his child. 

The thought made her sick. 

No matter how much Aemond would sink his heels in and stand against it, it was still the King’s order. He couldn’t deny it forever. The second he would be parted from her side, forced to fight in this war, she was sure his family would take action, rip her out of their shared chambers, probably throw her in the dungeons so she wouldn’t cause any trouble and ruin their plans. 

She longed for her home, to be with her family again, wrapped in their warm, safe embrace. 

As their chamber door opened, Aemond finally returned, she closed her eyes and settled her breathing, pretending to sleep to avoid the inevitable tension still locked between them.

She’d had enough conflict for the day, perhaps her entire life. 

She remained still as she listened to him shed himself of his clothes and she tried with all her might not to cry as there was no dip of the bed beside her, as she heard him settle on the couch for the night. 

~~

Well... I can only apologize

I promise this story has a happy ending xx

~~

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So sorry if I forgot to tag you xx

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving him with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

[perfectlyoongi]

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who showed up at your door when he arrived from a new tour — what happiness could Yoongi have if you, the cause of all the light in the world, weren’t with him?

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who held the cup of coffee you offered him with trembling hands. Yoongi’s heart was racing; no matter how many shows or interviews he’s been through, Yoongi has never felt so nervous, so anxious as he did that night. thinking of so many words, creating different sentences, Yoongi’s mind worked incessantly, peppering each thought with the memory of comfortable silences with you. how was Yoongi supposed to ask you for forgiveness when your breakup was mutual? how was Yoongi supposed to say he missed you when he promised he would forget you, for both of your sake? how was Yoongi supposed t—

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who drinks the coffee with hope in his hands. you opened the door. you invited Yoongi in. you were sitting by Yoongi’s side. you were silent, in a silence that was shared for eternities. you were here. and here was Yoongi too. was it out of pity? no. Yoongi knew you would never give him hope if you didn’t feel it. hope. the coffee was hot, but what comforted Yoongi was this feeling, this thought. a thought that maybe, in a very slim chance, you opened the door to invite Yoongi back into your life. yes. Yoongi needed to have hope. and now, looking at you, as nervous as him, as tired as him, as broken as him, Yoongi knew. Yoongi turned that hope into certainty, because he knew you and knew what your action really meant.

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who simply says “i love you”.

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who felt the world move again when you smiled and repeated the same words. you cast a spell on Yoongi the day you left, a spell that stopped everything in Yoongi’s life except his longing for you. and now, you cast a new spell, a spell that made the world spin, the flowers bloom, the birds sing. you yourself were magic. as if sent by the stars, your words danced a long-rehearsed waltz in Yoongi’s heart. you opened the door. you said it. you still loved Yoongi. and it was with the heat of passion that Yoongi took your hand in his and brought your foreheads together. noses gently brushing against each other, eliciting small, shy smiles from you and Yoongi. and, when he placed his other hand on your cheek, caressing your face, Yoongi swore he came back to life at that exact moment. “i knew it. i knew perfectly well that our story couldn’t end like that. you and i, my love, we were made to love each other.”

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who spends the night at your house without being able to sleep. Yoongi was no longer used to his heart beating. Yoongi was no longer used to breathing without any difficulty. Yoongi was no longer used to feeling alive. how could Yoongi sleep if you were next to him, leaning against him, with your head on his chest? how could Yoongi sleep if reality finally made him happier than his dreams? finally you. three mere words from you were enough to paint Yoongi with hopeful and tender colors. how incredible it was to live in that world now that the word ‘love’ was no longer the stone that Yoongi carried in his heart — light and graceful, the word ‘love’ now floated in Yoongi with the certainty that it would forever dance inside him. “since we broke up, i’ve never been able to get a night’s sleep. i’m exhausted. completely defeated by sleepless nights. but with you here, with you by my side, any fatigue in me is transformed. any feeling i may feel now is transformed. in love. in pure love.”

SECOND-CHANCE!YOONGI who promises you an eternity of love, in this life and in any others to come. now that he had you back, now that he saw, and felt, what it was like to live a life without you. no. Yoongi didn’t live during the time you two were apart. Yoongi just existed. day after day, Yoongi existed, always forcing himself to finish the day, always hoping that you would come back. and you came back. here and now. and Yoongi promised, Yoongi swore, that he would do everything in his power to never lose you again. you were the life that existed inside Yoongi and he will never let you go again. you will forever be his. he will forever be yours. your souls will forever unite in a bond of destiny that was unbreakable no matter how many eternities pass. “you are the breath of life that i need to stay here. losing you means dying. and, love, the devil itself would have to imprison me in hell, for i would come back from the flames of hell to consume you once again with the flame of our love.”

[junowritings]

What about romanced Astarion reacting to the normally goody-goody Tav revealing that they stole the special potion from Araj before they left. He discovers this because Tav gives it to him as soon as they are out of sight from the blood merchant.

Oh I absolutely love this idea. Though writing this made me realize I need to put Astarion in my party more often. Went off on a bit of a tangent but I do hope you enjoy~!

=======

♡ Oh, the things we do for love, ey?

♡ Astarion plays nice with others in the interest of survival, and he’s made no attempts to hide that fact from you since you had really begun to bond. You on the other hand are akin to a bleeding heart, all too often going out of your way to do what you thought was right even if it meant putting yourself in harm's way as a result. At the beginning that attitude seemed pitiful - he figured it would simply end up getting you killed later down the line. And yet you’d rise, time and time again making an example of the morals that you set and surviving every encounter stronger than before. Even if your morals didn’t always align, he respected that tenacity.

♡ Even after you’d managed to worm your way into his very heart, the pair of you have butted heads more than once on the matter; at the high and mighty goody two shoes act that you face the world with. All of the reminders about doing good deeds for the sake of being good, not stealing from just anyone nor going behind others backs rummaging through personal effects for answers or loot. Not to mention all of that time spent helping others and listening to their plights as though they were your own. Honestly, darling, you really do make things harder on yourself by playing into other people’s sob stories. 

♡ Astarion never suspected that the encounter at Moonrise tower could have changed anything.

♡ He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you leave the room together after dealing with Araj, but that’s because inside Astarion is absolutely seething. A familiar feeling of disgust he’d longed hoped to quash down burns a hole deep within his chest, opening old mental wounds as though freshly torn asunder upon his flesh. He’s mad at that damned drow; the way she looked down upon him, using honeyed words that he knew were a damn farce because for fucks sake he’d been using the same tactics for well over a century. That look, that calculated appraisal as Araj gauged what the vampire spawn could offer her in exchange for her potion made his skin crawl, all too familiar with the look that spoke volumes of his value - as a means to serve her own whims and not an actual person.

♡ And then, when he’d shown reluctance, she’d turned to you, as though you’d reign him in and get him to bend to your will like some fanged pet you kept on a tight leash. Far from the truth, of course, but the lack of autonomy that Astarion felt watching the pair of you converse about him as if he wasn’t even there had him clenching his teeth hard enough that the ache in his jaw persists long afterwards.

♡ There had been a swell of satisfaction when you put your foot down on the matter, nipping her demand in the bud with a firm reminder that he had already refused her request - there was no more to discuss. The drow had gotten bored after that, uninterested in further discussion with her own desires now off the table, and Astarion was all too happy to be out of there as you trailed a few paces behind.

♡ Astarion stands by his choice, but another part of him kicks himself for turning down the reward. A moment of discomfort, to give up a piece of himself for a potion that could prove invaluable was all it could have taken. He had done it before - done it for centuries to placate that vile beast he once served - why would this be any different? A transactional relationship, one that could have given you a leg up in the battles ahead, and he’d refused. 

♡ He’s still stewing in these thoughts when a nudge breaks him from his reverie, a gentle brush of your fingers against his hand as you move into step beside your partner. Your touch is warm yet he prickles as though he’s been burned, pupils akin to pinpricks as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s measuring you, for a moment. Takes in the brow furrowed and questioning eyes - not pity, concern - trying to gauge how he’s feeling. It’s a discussion for later, so Astarion dons that usual placating smile and turns to you, fully prepared to pull a spiel about that whole conversation being a waste of your perfectly good time. And then he notices.

♡ His ears perk up at a noise, the gentle slosh of something moving. Crimson eyes dart down to the source, to the hand you’d touch him with. It’s not empty - no, fingers curl tight around the corded neck of a familiar glass green bottle, and your nudge this time is more insistent as you press the bottle into the palm of his hand, urging him to take it. You relinquish the bottle to his hold, pale hands taking the glass and stirring up the liquid inside as he brings it up to get a better look. Surely this isn’t…

♡ But then sure enough you smile, a mischievous twinkle in your eye that makes his own widen as you shrug.

♡ “For you. Figured she didn’t need it anymore; since she just left it lying out in the open and all.”.

♡ The laugh comes before Astarion can stop himself - loud and unabashed from the sheer absurdity of it all. You? Actually stealing something? And for him no less! And they say that romance is dead, yet here you are wooing him one stolen novelty at a time. 

♡Hells he hadn’t even noticed that you’d swiped the damned thing - had it been when you’d turned the blood merchant down? Or back when she’d had her sights set on him? He doesn’t care for the answer, not really. He’s more impressed that you pulled it off, but Astarion certainly doesn’t miss the irony of it all. His lovely partner, casting aside your usual goody nature in favor of stealing something and getting one up on the woman who’d disrespected your lover. As if he wasn’t fond enough of you already - this was just another lovely little reminder of the lengths you’d go for him.

♡ His smile for a moment is all teeth, shoulders still shaking with the last dregs of laughter - which damn if he didn’t need - as he brings his free arm to curl around your side. The kiss pressed to your cheek is quick, vibrating with the appreciative hum that passes the spawn’s lips when you lean a little into him. Once he pulls away Astarion keeps his free hand looped around your side, the other holding the bottle up and giving the contents a dramatic little shake to show off.

♡ Perhaps he’ll keep this as a little secret; or maybe he’ll spend the rest of that night flaunting this potion teasing you for your first act of casual thievery. Whatever the outcome it’s worth the grin he flashes you as he gives a conspiratory wink and declares.

♡ “Oh my dear. We’ll make a fine miscreant of you yet!”

[moonstruckme]

I saw ur last post so for tasm!peter.... maybe r has really bad period cramps and peter just takes care of her?? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love <3

cw: period cramps

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 637 words

“Are you sure this is normal?” You’re sweating, for Christ’s sake, face all shiny and pinched despite the heating pad and the painkillers and the chamomile tea and the dark chocolate he’d made a trip to the bodega down the street to get you. “I feel like we should call a nurse hotline or something.” 

“Don’t.” You look over at Peter from the couch, voice tight with pain. “It’s normal. This is the way it is.” 

“Is it really?” he frets. His knee bounces as he scrolls on his laptop on the beanbag beside you. “It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?” 

“Not in a while,” you admit. “Just once or twice a year, it’ll get like this.” 

Peter shakes his head, looking at his laptop. “Have you talked to anyone about it? I know lots of doctors talk about period pain like it’s never a big deal, but sometimes—” 

“Are you really about to explain to me about how women’s pain gets dismissed in healthcare?” You frown. “Seriously?” 

He winces. “Okay, yeah, you know this. Just, I know this isn’t my area of expertise, but I’m reading up on uterine cysts—” 

“I don’t have a cyst.” 

“There’s just no way this can be normal, sweetheart.” It feels like he’s pleading now, either with you or with whatever higher power is putting you through this. “There’s no way it’s supposed to hurt this much even with painkillers in your system.” 

“Some girls throw up or pass out,” you tell him, a bit gentler now. 

“I know,” he sighs. “I know, and it sucks that womankind has to go through that, but it’s worse when it’s you, you know? You’re my girl. You’re not supposed to hurt.” 

“Peter.” 

You sound almost pitying, and when he looks over you’ve softened considerably. The pain must have ebbed for the moment, because the space between your brows is smoother, the muscles around your eyes relaxed for the first time in hours. 

“Close out webMD, honey,” you say with a little smile. “It’s not going to help.” 

Peter obeys, shutting his laptop and slipping off the beanbag to kneel beside your head. He feels his eyebrows pinch as he cups your face. You’re running a little fever, though you’d assured him that’s normal too. When he dies, he’s got some serious questions for the guy upstairs; this is inhumane. 

“What can I do that will help?” he asks. 

Your mouth pulls up on one side. “You’ve already done a lot,” you say with a pointed glance to the tea and chocolate on the coffee table behind him. 

“Give me something else,” he begs. “You want tickets to disney world, pretty girl? Ask and it shall be done.” 

You huff a laugh, the sound doing more to Peter’s heart than it really has any right to, then look just to the left of his face. “Could you hold me?” you ask shyly. 

For a second, Peter’s frozen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then kisses your cheek emphatically, standing. “Yeah, baby, why didn’t you ask sooner?” 

“You seemed busy,” you say as he climbs over you on the couch, trying to maneuver you onto your side without disturbing your heating pad. 

“Busy freaking out about how useless I feel, you mean.” He presses both hands to the heating pad, shuffling around until you’re slotted perfectly against his front. “If I can do anything to help, you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay,” you murmur, smiling when he leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m good now, though. This is nice. Can we just stay here for a while?” 

Peter pffts, the show of indignance doing little to hide his fondness for you. “Sweetheart, I’ll stay here all week if you want me to. You just peel me off when you want something to eat.”

[pinklaetherlagoon]

Give It To Me Baby

pairings: Aegon II Targaryen x wife!reader

tw: after Rook's Rest, Aegon is dethrone and exiled, housewife kink, p in v, harsh talks of weight gain, for the sake of this fic Aegon still has is weenie

note: English is not my first language. Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

dividers by @/anitalenia

"A fat fuck, that's what I've become" Aegon was up the bed on his own, a rare occasion happening after month of bedridden immobility. His legs wobbling still as he pushed his plush stomach up and dropped it. It wasn't that bad, even if you feared of being less than objective right now. "The laughing stock of that cunt. Half burnt fat fuck..."

Aegon looked back to you, his wife. Standing there with and unreadable expression. Eyes fully captivated by the wide frame and the swinging cock, it had been too long. Took a lot to heal those burnings.

At that moment you didn't knew you were committing a grave mistake by not answering to his blubber. But you thought that feeding him his favourite foods and always visiting him with a tray full of pastries made it abundantly clear that you cared not for his new found fullness.

Apparently you were wrong. Aegon had turned his face around from the embarrassing buffoon on the mirror and met with the stare of the woman who had to endure his disfigured, flaccid ass for the rest of her life - least that's what he thought.

He refused the tray, pushing it up against your arms and smiling at you.

Furrowing your brows and setting it on your knees, sitting on the bed. "Something to sweeten up your evening, honey" you tried again.

"Uh, think I will need more than that now that I'm well..." He leaned closer, mouth puckered to press a kiss on your inviting lips. You pushed him when he tried to grab you and scoot you closer, "Eat first. You need your energy if you want to get out of this room once and for all..."

"I'll save face if I don't, believe me" turning his face to the side and looking down at the sticky cakes smothered in all sorts of creams and toppings, making his mouth salivating.

Food and the thought of revenge had been his comforts during his recovery. And now that revenge was out of question, since Rhaenyra sat the throne - she had come collecting her seat a little after Aegon got injured. Luckily she had took pity in his state and your poor downcasted eyes and exiled both of you.

Making you his nurse for most of his recovery, only a few servants backing you up with the cooking and cleaning of your reclusion.

"Maybe just one tart" his puffy fingers dipped in the creamy sides before holding it to his mouth.

Except that wasn't the only one he swallowed up, soon most slices where gone and he was licking his fingers clean before reaching to take the last one. Aegon's eyes went wide, remembering that you were there and he must have looked like such a pig.

"Please, take one" he uttered, what must have you been thinking of him "Stress that's all...too much of it"

"I had those made specifically for you, Aegon, and I'm not hungry"

Looking out of the window, it couldn't be later than after noon. He snickered; when was he ever not hungry?

His pretty wife must be disgusted with him. He refused the last piece of cake categorically, deemed himself too spent to eat or talk anymore. For the first time he went as far as using his sickness as a mean to tell you to leave him alone.

***

That evening you once again walked with a tray for two, this time, to eat in the chamber since Aegon rarely walked out of it. He didn't like the maids snooping around his bedchamber or them staring at him. You helped him wash and tidy the room. It should have been humiliating. Fallen nobility, but it was growing on you. Made you feel a little more a wife to Aegon than before. An anchor for him to lean to or something like that. It made you feel warm inside; hot for your husband.

Yet again he tried to reject the platter, "I still got those cakes taste in my mouth, sweetheart"

You didn't press him further, placing the tray aside and sighing. "What's wrong, Aegon? Tell me this isn't about your half-sister again" you took his hand in yours, "A quieter life is what I hoped for, after you got hurt...take into consideration that maybe it was for the best. The crown weights down too harshly on the head that wears it"

He hummed and clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand from yours. The crown was not the reason why he was so sour, at least not right now.

"Nah, not that damn throne. Doubt I'll fit on it anyway"

"That what this is all about?" Your tone was clearly more irritated that you intend too, it had Aegon shot you a confused look. He could be so selfish. Shutting you out of his life and caring about you not. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You got a second chance for a peaceful life and all you think of is this" you pinched a handful of his gut. "Care to know what I think? I think you're a fool. Now, eat before it gets cold"

He felt his cock throb from under the covers, it wasn't like you to get so mad at least not during his convalescence. And he got the reminder that he'd not fucked in quite a while because he was so caught with his own insecurities.

"Oh, so I shouldn't care for this...like I'm not some fat burden"

"But you're not. You're well now. Blooming in health"

He scoffed, "is that what you call it? Blooming?"

"I think you've forgotten I chose you over a life of luxury" you pressed your warm palm on his cheek, backing a little and rising your gown just above your knee. "I could have rejected you and dump you instead of taking the shame of being called a traitor" Your hand trailed alluringly under the skirt and let some more skin get uncovered.

But his body reacted quickly to the overwhelming feelings and he stopped your hand. "What had this to do with anything?"

You swatted your harm away and continued your ministrations. Spreading your legs and scooting your hips to make him take a good look at your pussy. "I stayed because I wanted...like I want you now"

The words making his cock stand in full attention.

Of course you ended up fucking. His gut weighted your frame down and his cock dragged inside rendering your mind mush; seized by a rapture of pure bliss. Pussy as tight as ever around his stiff prick. It had been so long, too long since that warmth spread on his lower belly and wrapped around his cock.

"Just needed a good fuck to stop that big mouth of yours form hating on yourself" you purred hands roaming all over his neck and chest, gripping and digging nails as you cunt swallowed him whole. Aegon didn't know what he had done to end up in this semi heaven on earth, he whimpered.

Head dizzy from the sex, the lick and your words. Propping up to tease his tip only, running it along your damp folds, his eyes stared down at his meaty thights and cock connecting with your lower half. Slamming down at the sounds of fast slaps. Balls contracting and cock throbbing. His hands clumsily guiding your down, manhandling you so easily. Lazy and too focused on the things you blubbered to care if his finger gripped your hips too tightly, you just purred and that fueled him with pride.

"Just want to stay here...take care of you"

"Sounds so...so g-good" he whimpered out.

"Yeah," you hummed, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as his cock pressed on your sweet spot, rubbing deliciously on your walls. Legs wrapped around his midsection and squeezing as best as you could to get him even deeper. Toes curling until your backside contracted and Aegon balls squeezed one more time before realising warm seed right inside you.

[stvrlightgirl]

✧˖°. So caught up in you ✧˖°.

part two

part one ←

summary: Your second meeting doesn’t really go as you planned, but you couldn’t complain. After all he asked you out on a date, right?

pairing: primary school teacher!remus lupin x single mom f!reader

warnings: fluff, idiots in love, Remus is a lovesick puppy, Marlene McKinnon, cause she deserves it, talking about tough times, but nothing bad.

wc: 2,4k

Enjoy!

“So you say he’s pretty hot, huh?” Marlene looked at you with a sly grin dancing on her lips, as she spoke.

You rolled your eyes at her suggestive tone, and almost instantly, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, causing you to subconsciously look away and hide your face in the comforting warmth of your coffee, as you take a slow sip to cover your flustered expression.

“I-I do think he’s…more attractive than an average man, yeah, but it’s doesn’t change anything.” you stammer in defense. "He's Molly's teacher, for goodness sake!" You huff under your breath, taking another, nervous sip of your coffee to divert your focus from the embarrassing topic.

Marlene lets out a hearty laugh, shaking her head in playful disbelief. "Oh, come on now," she teases, a cheeky smirk playing on her lips. She repositions herself to a seated position on the couch, to see you better.

You've known Marlene since you were diaper-wearing kiddos running around the playground, and she's been your rock throughout the years. No matter how tough times have been, she's always been there for you, even during your darkest days. When you got pregnant and after giving birth, she never gave up on you. You can't even count the number of times you've cried on her shoulder because life has been hard, and you've felt lost.

And moments like that reminded you of just how well she actually known you. Maybe even better than you’ve known yourself.

“ I don’t know…” you sigh, looking down at the floor to collect your thoughts. “I actually felt something, when he looked at me, but maybe it was just my imagination running, you know?” You chuckled as your hand squeezed the mug tighter. “He was just nice” you shrug. “He had to be nice, it’s his work.” You tried to convince yourself.

“But he's single, right? I mean, you're pretty as fuck and certainly not stupid, so you must have noticed that he's into you!" She raised her voice in frustration. "Why would he approach you if not because he finds you hot?”

“I don’t know if he’s single, Marlene, why would I care?” You frowned. “Besides, I’m not going to ask him that question, never.” You put the mug down on the shelf and then rubbed your face with your hands. “It’s just stupid crush.” You let out a half-hearted chuckle, looking back at her.

“Ha! So it’s a crush, you said it yourself!” She pointed her finger towards your direction as a mischievous smile grew bigger on her face, causing her nose to wrinkle. “I just can’t understand the fact that you don’t want to to be dicked down by a hot teacher, I mean, you’re wasting your time, maybe someone could finally jump your bones so that y-“

"Alright, that's enough, Marlene," you replied firmly, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as embarrassment washed over you. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying your best to regain composure. “It’s just not easy for me, and you know that, I wish I couldn’t overthink every aspect of my life, it’s tiring.” You gulped.

She looked at you with a knowing expression, the kind that mixed pity and understanding. You knew that look all too well, and hated seeing it on her face. It made you feel vulnerable again.

"Please don't give me that look," you whispered under your breath, a hint of pleading in your tone.

"I’m just worried about you," she murmurs, her gaze dropping to the carpet beneath your feet. "It's been nearly 7 years."

It’s been seven years since your last relationship. That night, when you told him about your pregnancy, should never happened. You should know better, but you were blinded by a manipulative fucker, who ran off the second he heard that you were carrying his baby. Since then it was hard for you to find someone who could understand your complicated situation, and you just stopped going to dates years ago.

You got used to the fact, that’s it was just you and Molly. And now that you had your life fixed up, why screw it all up by some dude?

"I don’t want to talk about it. " you backed away with to the hallway to grab your car keys “I have to be in Molly’s school in fifteen minutes.”

She rose from her seat on the couch and gracefully glided across the room to the corridor, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. As she approached, she leaned against the door frame and gazed at you quietly, her eyes searching your face.

“Just think about it, that’s all I ask.”

You sat down to pull on your boots, your gaze drifting towards her. She was staring at you intently, her determination clearly etched on her face. Her unwavering, steely gaze held a familiar stubborn resolve. You’ve seen it countless times before.

"Okay, okay, I'll think about it, but i can’t promise anything. " you finally relented, holding up your hands in defeat. Her eyes widened, and a squeal of excitement escaped her lips as she jumped up and down in front of you like an elated child. You couldn't help but smile at her reaction.

It won’t hurt to try, right?

Despite his natural talent for public speaking, which was crucial given his job working as a teacher, he found it difficult to concentrate his mind on anything today.

It wasn’t because he didn’t slept well, or his mood was worse than usual, it was because of you. You couldn’t leave his thoughts since he saw you for the first time in the hallway. That sweet smile adorned on your face when you spoked to your daughter, and the look you gave him, when you found his eyes for the first time. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The meeting was supposed to be chill, just some parents chatting about their kids, wanting to know their recent progress, just like every month. But things got way more complicated when you showed up. He must have been seriously sick to hallucinate the room lighting up when you walked in. Clearly, your mere presence was playing tricks on his overtired brain. He felt like a mad person.

“Mr. Lupin?” An irritated voice snatched him away from his mind. He quickly moved his gaze to the woman speaking to him. She was standing there with her arms tucked into her coat.

“Yes, what was the question again?” He raised the corner of his mouth nervously.

“I just asked about the school trip.” She huffed, clearly impatient.

Remus spoke, twirling a pencil in his hand to quell his anxiousness. "Right, yes. We plan on taking kids to the ranch next week, and the tickets are free, so we just need your permission for this one," he managed to say, his voice betraying a hint of nerves. “There will be a list on my desk, you can sign up, or not, and that’ll be all for today. I think we managed to raise all the issues earlier.” He reached for a piece of paper from his briefcase and placed it on the desk. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He couldn’t help but take a glance at you again.

You were chatting quietly with some parents in the back. He couldn’t help but feel being pulled back again to his trance. Maybe he shouldn’t thought about you that much? What if you already had someone else waiting for you at home? If not, he wanted so badly to know you better. You were pulling him towards like a fucking magnet.

After a while, when everyone began to gather around the desk to sign the list, you stayed behind, in no rush to join them. Finally when you stood up and made your way to the desk he felt his heart speeding up. Leaning over, you picked up a pen before quickly scribbling your signature next to Molly's name. You were closer than ever, and he could feel your perfume from such close distance. They were sweet. A hint of vanilla mixing with orange blossom and rose. The strands of your hair had escaped from behind your ears, cascading like a waterfall of silk down your face. They framed you, gently brushing against your skin as they fell.

He wanted you so bad it hurts his insides.

Remus watched you for a moment, a million thoughts swirling in his mind. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

As you straightened up, your gaze landed on his, and for a split second, you both locked eyes. There was a brief moment of connection, a fleeting glance that seemed to hold a thousands of unspoken words.

Your voice whispered through the empty space, the soft sound catching his ear and causing him to startle momentarily. "Molly said that they were painting pictures today," you murmured, your smile gentle as your gaze drifted out the window.

"Yeah..." Remus nodded casually as he leaned back, his shoulders relaxing slightly against the chair. He pushed back his soft strands of hair with hand, when they’re got dangerously close to his forehead. “It was supposed to be a way to get them to calm down for a bit.” He chuckled, his eyes seeking yours. “But it turned out into pure, colourful chaos.” He pushed himself up, closing the distance between you to stand by your side. His hands slid into the pockets of his jeans.

He wore them again, but today his sweater was sage green,and his wrist was adorned by a brown leather-watch on his wrist, and he even got boots to match.

He stole a glance through the window, his eyes falling upon you as you gazed at the scene. The empty playground outside was being caressed by soft wind, golden leaves carried away in a gentle dance around the area.

“It must’ve be-“

“Actually I-“

You both chuckled at the same time, gazes meeting and in an instant, it felt as if the world around you faded away. It was that gleam in his eyes, that captivated you so much.

“Go on.” you said gently, encouraging him to continue. Your voice was soft and quiet, the words barely above a whisper. A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and a faint blush stained your cheeks.

He looked back at the window to collect his thoughts.

He chuckled softly, "I just never introduced myself properly, which is kind of rude, to be honest." You sensed a hint of playfulness in his voice. “I’m Remus.”

He held out his hand, and as yours met his much bigger palm, that familiar tingling sensation shot through you again, just like when you bumped into each other in the hallway.

His hands were warm, but in that moment, they seemed almost scalding. Your own skin tingled under his touch, the heat from his fingers sending ripples of sensation radiating through you. As he held your hand, you couldn't help but notice the stark difference between your own cool touch and the comforting warmth of his palm.

"Y/n." you replied gently, your voice was barely a whisper not wanting to break the spell of the moment as you held onto his hand, or maybe he held onto yours, you couldn’t tell.

Your name slipped from his tongue like a cloud on a rainy day, soft and soothing, yet with a gentle rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

A moment passed, and as he released your hand, and immediately a feelings of emptiness washed over you.

“Well, it’s nice to finally know your name, Remus.” You smiled when small blush appeared on his cheeks.

His name sounded different on your tongue as if it had been destined to be spoken by you. Each syllable rolled off your lips effortlessly, like it was always supposed to be there. He found himself hanging on every sound, relishing the sound of his name in your voice.

"So...," he began, pausing to clear his throat nervously. His voice dropped as he continued, "Are you free this Friday?" He looked down to observe your reaction, his lowered gaze catching the hint of amusement on your face.

just think about it, that’s all I ask.

When you shifted to face him directly, you were startled by the sheer height difference between the two of you. He seemed to loom over you, his tall stature making you feel practically tiny in comparison. You hadn't noticed just how much taller he was until that moment. You couldn't speak for a second, overwhelmed by a potent mix of shock and panic. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, setting your body on edge as you struggled to find the right words. Time seemed to freeze, your thoughts a whirl of unease and surprise as you stood before him, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Yes," you managed to say, despite the mixture of surprise and anxiousness coursing through you. "I am free this Friday." A small, shaky breath escaped your lungs. The words came out softly, almost a whisper, but they were clear enough.

His shoulders visibly relaxed at your answer, the tension in his frame releasing some of its tight coil. A small, anxious chuckle escaped him as he continued. "Great, because there's this small café in town, and they have the best coffee around. Only if you're up for it, of course," he added hastily, his nervousness betrayed by the slight waver in his voice.

“I would love to, Remus.” Your voice soft as you spoke, a shy smile playing on your lips.

God, you said his name again, he could die as a happy man now.

The school bell rang abruptly, causing you both to laugh in amusement at its timing. It seemed like the bell had a knack for knowing when to chime in, always breaking the moment between you with perfect timing.

And you couldn't have been more happier when, amidst the chaos of collecting his things and saying goodbyes, he asked for your number. You gave it to him with a fucking smile on your face, because you didn’t care. Seeing him today had reassured you that even if things won’t work out between the two of you, you'd still have your normal, happy life, so it wouldn't hurt too much. And plus, you really wanted to. He was cute even when he stammered for no reason.

It was official, you had a date with a hot teacher.

part three

a/n: I really love the idea that this two idiots are just so smitten with each other, that they can’t speak properly, but I promise, it won’t last for too long…hehe. Also, if you want me to tag you in my tag list, just dm me :)

another a/n: Just wanted to quickly announce that part 3 will be posted probably next Friday, because at the moment, im busy sunbathing on the wild beach and sipping on my drink. I hope you have a nice day too xoxo.

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers

[nivisdreaming]

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1k

CW: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, light degradation, spanking, dry humping, thigh riding, marking, biting, nippleplay, praise, excessive use of petnames

Miguel O’Hara is a busy man. He practically runs the Spider Society on his own for god sake, he’s got a lot on his plate. He wishes it could all be missions and adventure, but a grueling portion of it is paperwork. Boring old paperwork that takes up too much of his time and attention, especially for your liking.

It’s not odd for you to creep into his home office long after dark, attempting to lure him to bed, only to find him hunched over his desk and buried in spreadsheets and reports. That’s exactly where you find him tonight, face lit by his computer screen as he endlessly scrolls through a document.

You sneak up behind him, hands creeping up his shoulders and rubbing gently, working the knots that lie beneath the skin. His eyes flit up to you for only a moment, grumbling a hello without pausing his reading. You frown at his negligence and lean forward to rest your chin atop your head. You clear your throat and mutter, “Are you almost finished here? It’s late.”

Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as he glances up at you. “I’m sorry, mi vida, but I’ve still got a couple of reports to check off my list.” His hand comes up to pat your hair for a second before returning to his computer mouse. You sigh heavily and debate your options. You could be good and go wait for him in your room. Or you could be bad and try to bother him into paying you attention now. One of these options seemed to provide a much more immediate reward, and you were nothing if not impatient.

You started slow, a small peck to his forehead and your arms creeping to wrap around his torso. He gave no response, assuming you were just feeling clingy from the late hour and lack of time together that day. Annoyed with his continued focus on his work, you worked your kisses down to his cheek, and then further down to the sensitive spot directly behind his ear. You nipped and licked, eliciting a shiver from him before he grabbed the wrist of your hand that had begun to wander lower on his waist. “Mi amor, exactly what is it you think you’re doing?” He growled as you kept up your assault, moving to mark up his neck with hickeys.

You pulled back for a moment to speak, “Winning your attention from the dumb paperwork, Miggy.” You shifted in front of him, throwing a leg over his lap and pressing into him in a straddle. You maintain no subtlety in grinding your hips forward, a delicious shock running up your spine as you find him already beginning to strain against his slacks. He groans as you shamelessly dry-hump him, allowing himself a few moments to get lost in the feeling of your warmth before grabbing ahold of your hips.

“You know better than to distract me from work, brat.” He lands a hard slap on your ass, chuckling at the whine it pulls from you. “You need me that badly, baby?” He presses his fingertips in harder, threatening to bruise until you give a pitiful nod and whimper. He wastes no time in shifting you to rest atop his right thigh, the bulky muscle pressing up into your core. You look up at him with confusion, and he gives you another spank. “You need to cum so bad? Then you can do it while you ride my thigh.”

You roll your hips instinctively, and the friction on your clit rips a pathetic moan from you. Miguel turns to continue his work and you give a drawn-out whine, but the feeling of humiliation only encourages your helpless grinding. You burrow your face into the crook of his neck, strings of mewls falling from your lips as he tenses and bounces his thigh underneath you, the only sign that he’s even aware of your desperate behavior.

Your legs begin to tremble as you barely hold on to your pleasure, the layers of fabric frustrating you, and the lack of attention from Miguel becoming more and more infuriating. In a moment of anger, you sink your teeth into his neck, chomping down on his pulse point to force his gaze onto you. It clearly works, as he threads a hand into the back of your hair and wrenches you off his neck to stare into predatory eyes.

“You little bitch. You’re really gonna be so damn impatient tonight?” He growls. His free hand locks on your hip, forcing you to resume your grinding with a newfound vigor as he pushes you into him. The increased pressure causes you to cry out, euphoria starting to coil in your stomach. You squirm in his grasp, yelps of his name forced from you as he moves to pinch at your nipples and eventually lowers his mouth to lathe his tongue over them.

Your eyes roll back into your skull, the band in your lower belly snapping without warning when Miguel gives one last tense of the muscle under you. Fireworks explode in your vision and throughout your body, forcing you forward to lean fully on the man holding you as you twitch and buck.

He soothes up and down your back until you are still, whispering soft praises in your ear while you recover. “Good girl, that’s my good girl. You did well, mi amor, I’m so proud of you,” he mutters. You peel your eyes open to look at him, and he shoots you a soft smile and places a gentle kiss to your lips. “Go back to our room, baby, I’ll be there in just a few minutes and then you can put that show on without anything covering you up, okay?”

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

****************************************************

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[runninriot]

Say You're Sorry

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

prompt: make-up sex | rated: E | wc: 3.881

tags: sub top eddie munson, bossy bottom steve harrington, edging, orgasm denial, degradation kink (if you squint), steve's being a tease because eddie owes him an apology

complete fic on ao3

Steve knows Eddie didn’t do it on purpose. He knows how bad his boyfriend is at remembering dates, always has too many things buzzing around in his pretty head that it’s hard for him to focus, to filter out what’s important and what isn’t. And in the past two years of being in a relationship with him, Steve has learned to accept this minor flaw. But that he could forget today of all days, still makes him furious.

It’s not his birthday, no. It’s not even their anniversary. Steve could forgive him easily for forgetting those.

Today is way more important.

Today is his first day at his first teaching job – the one thing Steve had been working harder for than anything else in his life. After years of fighting with his parents, of almost giving up, and too many sleepless nights, he’s finally where he always wanted to be.

And Eddie just- forgot.

It’s not like Steve expected anything big, not even a little present or something. But he got nothing. Nothing at all. No ‘Good luck on your first day, baby’ or a cheesy ‘Go, get them, tiger!’, not even an ‘I’m proud of you.’

Instead, Eddie got up particularly late and drank his coffee like he always does, in grouchy silence, before mumbling a lousy ‘See you tonight, baby. Love you.’ and heading out the door.

So, Steve thinks he has every right to be pissed.

And he still is, when he comes home from work, despite the warm welcome he got from his new colleagues and students.

---

   “Hey my love, how was your day?”

Eddie is standing in the kitchen, cooking. For a second Steve thinks maybe he remembered, that maybe he’s surprising him with his favourite meal to make up for this morning. But no, one look over his shoulder shows that it’s not.

   “Good,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie – however oblivious he sometimes is – can instantly sense that something’s wrong.

He spins around and grabs Steve by his waist to pull him closer, kisses the back of his neck and the top of his head before he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder.

   “Tell me baby, what did I do wrong this time?” He sighs deeply, honest regret in his voice, and Steve almost has pity on him.

Almost.

He peels himself out of Eddie’s arms and turns to look at him.

   “Oh, I don’t know. Let me think.” He taps his pointer finger against his chin and looks at the ceiling, pretending to search for an answer. “I don’t know, Eddie. Could it be that maybe you forgot something?”

He’s being a bitch and he knows it but he can’t help it.

   “For fuck’s sake, babe! Just tell me! You know I’m bad at this. What did I forget? Your birthday’s not for another month and- Oh.”

Steve can see the exact moment it dawns on Eddie.

   “Fuck. Fuck! Shit, baby, I’m sorry! I didn’t- I was- this morning I-“

He knows there’s no use in trying to come up with an excuse. It’s too late for that, the ship has already sailed. Steve’s mad and Eddie is to blame.

   “How was it? Tell me everything! How’s your schedule, your colleagues? Any funny stories about your students?”

It’s almost cute how hard he’s trying and the half sad half pleading look in his eyes is already starting to melt the ice in Steve’s heart.

But he won’t let him get off so easy.

Instead of answering Eddie’s questions, Steve walks out of the kitchen and into the bathroom where he locks the door behind him, just out of spite – they never lock the doors – and starts the shower.

The warm spray is heavenly, makes him realise how tense he’s been all day when he feels his muscles slowly loosen.

And when he’s done, he feels like a whole new man, refreshed and relaxed. Better, he feels better, and he finds that his anger, his slight disappointment has been flushed down the drain together with the stress of the day.

Steve can never be mad at Eddie for too long anyway, he loves that man too much.

BUT- and that’s a big but, Steve can also be a petty brat if he wants to. And he does. Because he thinks that Eddie does deserve at least some kind of punishment.

Something to make up for souring Steve’s mood.

Something he’ll thank him for. Later, when Steve’s done with him.

After more of the silent treatment at dinner, Steve knows Eddie is already close to a breakdown – figuratively speaking. He’s jittery and extra cautious of every move Steve makes, like he already suspects what’s coming for him.

Still, Steve takes his time, makes no attempts to offer Eddie any consolation, just lets him seethe in his guilty conscience for a little while longer – he doesn’t need Steve to give him directions, he’ll figure it out on his own.

Because Eddie, no matter how forgetful he sometimes is, is a clever boy. He’s a good boy, usually. Just sometimes he needs a little reminder, a little... tug at the leash, so to speak, to remember his place.

A place that is currently empty.

But not for long, Steve will make sure of it.

So, this time, when he goes to the bathroom to get ready for the night, the door stays open. Wide open. He undresses slowly, giving his boyfriend a show he knows Eddie can’t resist to watch. And oh, he’s watching. Steve can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, the intensity making his skin prickle.

He’s watching and he’s probably already drooling all over himself, just waiting for his sign.

This is going to be so much fun.

continue reading here

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING DIVINE !!! TOTO W. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: toto shows his appreciation for his pregnant wife. (part two-ish of something intoxicating)

💌 re:moony's planner request: "reader actually getting pregnant after toto fucked her out after a long neglect and him being really exited for this chapter in their life."

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, insecurities, pregnant!reader, body worship, breeding/impregnation kink, creampie, i did not proofread this lol

note: i am not sure if this was meant to be a fluff or a smut request so i decided to 🤷‍♀️ make it a smut 🤷‍♀️ enjoy xx (also! please don't hesitate to give me your opinion!!!)

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

he didn’t think that she could get any sexier than she was before. but alas. 

here she was: her figure, her sweet sweet figure, had a small protrusion on her stomach that indicated a sign of life within her. she was the most attractive woman to have ever existed, and, when they learned that they were expecting, there was a growing sense of protection and primal desire within toto that he couldn’t even explain.

he couldn’t help it; his cock wouldn’t stop from making itself hard after looking at her body. she was growing a life, for fucks sake— and she was doing so in the most amazing way possible. it was making toto hornier than usual. 

but she wasn’t aware of it. in fact, she often voiced out how her skin continued to stretch and showed marks as the baby progressively grew.

her insecurities, ones that continued to grow as much as her baby did, were something she hid away from toto. she didn’t want to make them a big deal considering that he was already stressed enough during this season.

she often spoke to lewis’ physiologist, angela, about this kind of matter and hadn’t approached anyone else as she continued to spend her time at the paddock. if anyone else knew— they’d immediately tell toto. that would mean that she was burdening her husband with this matter. 

toto hadn’t meant to walk in the conversation, but he couldn’t find himself to refrain from listening when she and angela spoke while in the garage.

“the baby’s growing real fast,” angela told the woman with fascination, “i reckon he’d have long legs like his daddy.”

and instead of offering a happy laugh, the woman let out a small pitiful chuckle as angela then asked, “oh no. don’t tell me—?”

toto’s wife sighed, “i dunno. i’m supposed to be happy— and i am! ‘s just—“ she placed her hand over the stomach and rubbed the bulge soothingly. she continued, “i don’t feel like this is me. my body— dunno. it’s silly, don’t you think?” 

“it’s not,” angela reassured the woman. “it’s normal to feel that way. you have to understand that your body is growing a baby and that they require a little more space than food usually does.” 

“i shouldn’t feel bad,” the woman said with a solemn smile, “i’m very excited, really. this is my first kid— this is toto’s first kid. but at the same time i feel like i’d lose his attention the moment this kid pops out and i don’t have the body i used to—“

“hey, hey!” angela gave the woman a warning look, “enough with that. you look absolutely divine— toto would be stupid if he doesn’t appreciate your body and what it’s doing for his son.” 

toto stood behind the door and continued listening. he wasn’t sure if he was upset at his wife for not coming to him sooner to talk about her feelings. but he was certain that he was upset at her for thinking that she wasn’t worth being appreciated because of her body. 

he had to do something. he could still do something as a loving and appreciative partner while she did all the hard work. 

and that’s what he did. he couldn’t help himself when she came out of the bathroom with nothing but a slip dress on that night. the way her silk nightwear accentuated her curves made toto’s cock twitch in his trousers. 

he couldn’t help but sink down to devour every part of her. at first, she wondered what prompted him to act like this— to act so… primal and overly worshipful. but as soon as his mouth attached itself to her tender skin and fragile figure she was long gone, a gasp escaping her lips while she begged for him.

and who was he to deny his pretty, fragile wife? he would be damned if he hadn’t done anything to make her feel loved— he’d give her the world, should she demand it. 

she whimpered quietly as toto thrusted into her cunt gently, her eyes close to tearing up because of how toto treated her like she’s bound to break at some point. 

his hands travelled down her body as he groaned softly, rhythms of his hips slapping against hers were adagio as toto’s thumbs played with her stiff nipples. he hummed, “so eine hübsche frau.” such a pretty wife.

“you should see yourself, schatz,” he growled, his cock bottoming out in her as she let out a loud moan. “you’re growing my baby— our baby. haven’t seen something so beautiful before. fuuuck~ you are so sexy, it makes me want to fuck more babies into you.”

she sobbed desperately, “ngh~ i- toto.” her heels dug into his hips harder as she lifted her hips up to meet his halfway through. “want you.”

“‘m here, liebling,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead as his pace turned up to presto as they both let out endless sounds of pleasure. the tip of his cock reaching her cervix as he began pounding into her relentlessly.

“please fuck me harder,” she begged. “wan’ you to fuck me.”

“i will,” he shushed her, “but i can’t help it. this body of yours- fuck- makes me want to take it slower. you’re so beautiful like this- all pregnant with my baby.” he nipped on her tits as he hummed in satisfaction.

“makes me want to give you more after this one comes out,” he said darkly, kissing her hard as he began to fuck her harder. “gonna give you more and make sure these tits are full of milk.”

“mm, fuck- toto~” she cried out, feeling too overwhelmed by the pleasure and excitement she had gotten out of his words and his actions. 

her cunt clenched around his cock as he chuckled sweetly and said, “oh? you want more kids then? you want to be my pregnant little wife full of my babies?” 

she only nodded frantically. toto continued to fuck her until a loud strangled noise escaped her lips.

“o- oh, fuck. ‘m cumming,” she announced, holding him closer as his thrusts became harder and faster as they both reached their highs. 

“god— fucking hell, schatz,” he muttered hastily, groaning deeply in her ear as he said, “i’m gonna cum. where do you want me?”

“i- inside, toto- fuck!” she cried out, her body shaking as her walls throbbed around him. “cum inside me, please!”

toto’s hips stuttered for a brief moment as he let out a groan, shooting his cum inside her cunt as he thrusted slowly before stilling.

with a breathless sigh, he slowly pulled out of her and watched his cum escape her hole and drip down the mattress beneath her. he looked at her fucked out face lovingly as he gave her another kiss. 

god she really was fucking divine. he wouldn’t be surprised if she was pregnant again shortly after giving birth to their firstborn. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[sommerregenjuniluft]

barty working at some run down convenience store and he has a thing for the pretty girl who comes in buying cigs even though she's underage

GASP llaaaaayyylllaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you always manage to. ugh. just. YES. fuck this is so them!!!!!!! you get them, you understand them. ily.

—

Barty is still leafing through his magazine a moment later when he smells the gust of lilies and citrus from the other side of the counter. He grins.

A bottle of cherry coke zero clanks down on the counter along with a smaller bottle of vodka. “And a packet of Reds.”

Barty’s grin widens. He doesn’t look up when he winces and says, “I’m gonna need to see some ID on that, sweetie.”

Nothing. Then, a crumpled bill and some coins are thrown down next to the beverages.

Barty tuts when he finally lets himself look up and into enticingly piercing green eyes. Lily’s hair is a mess today and while her gaze is bright as any day, there’s a shadow of exhaustion hanging underneath her lower lashes.

“C’mon, kid, just show me that stolen ID again and let me tell you how much prettier you are than that girl in the picture,” Barty purrs, watching as Lily’s eyes narrow. “For old times’ sake, baby.”

Lily frowns, “Just hand me the cigarettes and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, but see that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen,” he replies, propping his palms onto the counter, leaning his long torso over.

Lily sighs and she shuts her eyes and her lips thin into a line and for a moment Barty thinks he’s going to get that one rare noise again where she’s whining like the most pitiful, exhausted, sweetest little thing. The first time she’d pressed it through gritted teeth Barty was so stupid from arousal he’d slipped the cigarette package over the counter and gave her the opportunity to leave earlier than planned.

Right now Lily takes a firm breath instead. Bummer.

But Barty isn’t giving up just yet. “Y’know, you shouldn’t buy that anyways. Stuff’s bad for you.”

“And you shouldn’t browse through the Playboy on the clock,” Lily sneers.

Barty grins and ducks closer, “Why, you got something better to show me?”

Lily’ cheeks take on a lovely pink tint, her freckles flaming over her rosy skin. Sometimes she reminds Barty a little of a cute fawn.

Barty nods at the beverages on the counter, “You gonna take that to a friend?”

“No,” Lily replies, frowning. Like it would be the most irrational thing to pick up a friend and have a drink with them. She’s so cute Barty wants to eat her.

“Gonna drink that all by yourself, sweets?” he inquires, grinning.

Lily huffs, “That’s none of your business.”

Barty hums, “Let me tell you something.”

“No, thank you.”

“Why don’t I take my break now,” Barty goes on, undeterred, “and I’ll have one with you. And I’ll let you purchase the cigs. Even throw in a lighter for free ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.”

Something just shy of a whimper catches in Lily’s throat. “I just want the damn smokes,” she mutters at the ceiling. Barty thinks the pale skin of her neck would probably bruise so easily if she’d just let him.

“Brilliant, then it’s settled,” Barty concludes and sorts the money into the register before slamming it closed pointedly.

He grabs the smokes from behind him and picks out a lighter with a wolfish grin. He fishes for the keys and the ‘Be Right Back’ sign from under the counter and then ushers a grumbling Lily out the back door.

There’s an old, ratty plastic chair and Barty lets himself plop down into it with a sated sigh. Lily keeps standing in the bare space in front of him and glares, “What happened to the second chair?”

Barty shrugs, “Someone stole it.” Someone being Barty and yes, the chair fits in nicely with the rest of his balcony furniture, thanks for asking.

Lily’s mouth tightens, she opens her soda. “Well, how hospitable of you to offer me the seat then,” she snarks.

“Oh, you’re very welcome to sit,” Barty returns, purposefully widening his legs and bucking his hips. “You look exhausted, love, and I promise I’m very comfy.”

He watches Lily’s gaze harden again, the wall building up, higher, and she purses her lips. She looks like she’s one more remark away from kicking Barty out of the wobbly chair but then suddenly she moves forward. She stops right between Barty’s legs and honestly, he hadn’t hoped he’d get this far today so his brain operates a little slow. Eventually he manages lifting his hands and guiding Lily around and to sit square in his lap.

They’re so close suddenly, Lily’s hair is tickling Barty’s nose and she feels heavenly where she’s placed on top of him. Warm and soft. She smells so good and the crook of her neck is right there. Barty has to work hard to control himself when spit pools under his tongue.

Lily tugs at her sweater subconsciously. It’s a low v-neck and Barty’s in a perfect position to ogle down her cleavage. “Smokes?” Lily asks, a little impatiently.

Barty hums, licking the corner of his mouth and gnawing on his bottom lip as he unwraps the cigarettes blindly, still hungrily taking in the soft swell of Lily’s—

“Stop staring at my tits, perv.”

Barty looks up to see her glowering expression. He licks his lips again. Lily’s gaze flutters down for just a second.

When the plastic wrapper is off, Barty opens it and flicks against the bottom of the carton. He takes the one that shot out the farthest and holds it up between them. “For good luck,” he explains, “Smoke it right before your exam.” Barty doesn’t know what prompts his brain in that direction but he finds himself planting a kiss along the length of the cigarette. Then he holds it up to Lily’s lips as well. She kisses it dutifully, so good for him, right on the spot where Barty’s mouth just lingered seconds ago, none the wiser that this is not at all a step in choosing your lucky cigarette. Barty puts it back in between the others with the filter up.

He pulls out two others and first sticks one between his own and then Lily’s lips. The urge to press his fingers in deeper is there but Barty ignores it skillfully.

The lighter is procured, Barty takes Lily’s chin between his fingers to light their cigarettes at the same time and then their smoking and nursing their drinks in comfortable silence. Barty can feel Lily readjust and squirm for the duration of her first smoke but then his arm lifts off the armrest and around Lily to pull her closer. She shifts up with a quiet yelp but settles quickly after the fact, if with a warning glance when Barty’s hand stays high on the outside of her thigh.

Lily’s skirt is soft fabric today, some kind of cotton with a mesh cover on top and it’s airy and short. After the third consecutive smoke and half the empty vodka flask later Barty has three fingertips digging into the bare skin of Lily’s thigh without complaint and a semi in his jeans.

“Lily,” Barty rasps after another two smokes. The redhead is mildly slumping against Barty’s embrace, eyes lidded and looking like she’s not far from falling asleep right on top of him.

“Hm?” she makes, blowing out smoke.

“You’re not feeling too well with exam season coming up, huh?”

“No shit,” Lily responds.

Barty’s lips tug at the corners, “I know a way to make you feel good.”

For the first time in a while Lily tenses in his lap, eyes widening in alert. “No,” she says.

Barty rolls his eyes with a grin, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

Yet, Barty thinks. “That’s not what I was going to propose,” Barty corrects, smartly.

Lily raises her eyebrows in disbelief. God, she’s so hot when she isn’t taking Barty’s bullshit.

“I was gonna say kiss you.”

“No.”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“Only the neck.”

Lily pauses. Bingo.

Barty lifts his unoccupied hand and moves her curls over her shoulder, exposing her throat to him. He lets his fingers flutter over her pulse point feather light. “Just gonna kiss your neck a bit and make you feel good.”

“Barty.”

“Gonna make you feel good, I promise,” he mumbles, gambling.

A sigh, then a barely there whisper, “Fine.”

Barty’s breath hitches and then he leans in and lets his tongue out flat to lick a long stripe up Lily’s pretty neck with a groan. He closes his lips around the skin and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, just behind her ear. Lily shudders in his lap and when Barty pants another breathy noise against her skin, he hears her moan quietly as well.

Lily tastes heavenly, like raspberry and lime, and clean and flowery. He licks and kisses and sucks and makes out with Lily’s neck, gripping her thigh so far up it’s nearly ass and getting increasingly harder the more she melts into him and the louder she gets.

Lastly Barty makes the mistakes of sucking too hard and pulling Lily from her trance so that she promptly extracts herself with a hiss. Her lips are bitten red and her eyes are wide and dewy as she stares at Barty in shock, cheeks flushed and Barty would literally sell all his organs to know what Lily is thinking right now.

Eventually she stutters her way through arguing why she has to leave now and Barty nods dutifully, still high off of the taste of Lily on his tongue, before helping her up and opening the door for her. Like a gentleman. As soon as her back is turned he cups and adjusts himself in his pants.

When they come back into the store there’s a small queue lined up outside and Barty smirks when he sees Lily blushing deeper.

Barty leans down to her ear from behind, “Well then, sweets, see you soon.” He presses the lighter into her palm and then steps past her to unlock the door for the costumers.

Lily responds something unintelligible under her breath and then rushes out after the people waiting have stepped inside.

On the sidewalk Lily turns and searches for Barty through the window. When their gazes lock she holds up the hand with the lighter and mouths, “Bambi?!”

Barty simply winks at her.